


Flora and Faun

by BIGHANK (piano_fire)



Series: Threadfic Collection [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, But like a deer Faun, Connor is a Faun, Fade to Black, Falling In Love, Fauns & Satyrs, Fluff, For no real reason other than it's cute, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monsters, Mutual Pining, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:58:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19135345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piano_fire/pseuds/BIGHANK
Summary: Hank swore he'd live out the rest of his life alone, with nobody but his dog and the eerie forest surrounding him. And honestly, he was perfectly content that way.Well, at least until a mystical creature named Connor stumbled into his life.





	Flora and Faun

**Author's Note:**

> Original completion date: 3/29/19
> 
> Another threadfic all gussied up! The changes here were very minor, just wanted to make for a smoother read really. As usual, the format will differ from my usual as this was originally written in a Twitter thread :)
> 
> Here's the [original thread](https://twitter.com/BlGHANK/status/1107757552710746112) , and my entire [thread moment](https://twitter.com/i/moments/1086477396918837248) for those interested.
> 
> So a few notes. The world is inspired by 13th century Europe. I know Fauns are traditionally goat-like, but Connor has those damn doe eyes. He makes a perfect deer boy. I basically made it a subspecies in their world just for my own peace of mind haha.
> 
> CW: There are descriptions of gore and injuries throughout the fic

Down in a lonely cottage surrounded by treacherous, untamed wilderness, there lives the huntsman known as Hank Anderson, alongside his trusted deerhound, Sumo. He’d long sworn off any kind of civilization after the death of his son, and only journeys into town for the occasional trade. It was rare for travelers to come near the cottage, fearing whatever dangers the mysterious woods concealed. It was a lonely existence for most, but absolute paradise for Hank. He wants to protect himself from the cruelty and greed of humans.

And so like every morning, he wakes up at the crack of dawn for his first trip of the day. It was the safest time to hunt hares, and those were Sumo’s favorite. Hank grumbles through his morning routine, equipping himself with a varied array satchels and pouches. He sheathes his trusty skinning knife and longbow before whistling for Sumo to accompany him. 

The forest is bountiful, and within a meager two hours Hank has three sizable hares, tied safely to one of his larger packs. He’s starting to head home when Sumo perks up, trotting in the opposite direction. Hank grouses and whistles in an attempt to capture his attention once more, but it’s to no avail. 

“Dumb beast.” He mutters under his breath before sprinting to catch up to his excessively curious hound. 

It doesn’t take long to find the brute sniffing some bushes intently. Hank sighs and crouches next to Sumo. “Alright, what’d you find boy?” 

Sumo continues to sniff around, before perking up and staring straight ahead of them. 

Hank frowns and leans closer to the bushes. It was difficult to see from afar, but the leaves were oozing with a dark, thick liquid. He scoops some up in his fingers and holds it up to the light. The darkest shade of scarlet he’s ever seen.

He gives it a sniff; Metallic, with a slight whiff of something sweet. It’s unusually viscous, and shaking his hand does nothing to free his fingers of the odd substance. Hank grimaces. 

Blood, most definitely. But not human. 

Something uncomfortable coils in his gut. He’s done well to avoid any creatures that prowl this strange forest, but this was mere minutes away from his home. He swallows his fear, determined to get to the bottom of this. Hank wipes his hand on his pants haphazardly and glances in the direction Sumo is staring, where the thin trail of blood becomes immediately apparent. He whistles. “Sumo, heel!” 

The pair walk side by side, following the trail with intensity. He keeps a careful eye on Sumo to assure he doesn’t bound too far ahead; Who knows what danger awaits them. As they continue, the trail becomes more chaotic. No longer a relatively straight line, it begins to veer off, thick blood smearing to the surrounding foliage. He starts to assume they’ll never find the end of the trail when suddenly he hears it.

Distant sobs, almost too quiet to make out. Listening intently, Hank can determine that they indeed sound human. His first thought is that someone might have been attacked by this creature, and could be seriously injured. Before he can pinpoint the direction of the noise, Sumo bolts off. 

“Sumo! Heel!” Hank shouts, but it’s too late. He wastes no time dashing after the large dog, struggling to keep up with his incredible speed. Luckily, he didn’t run too far, as soon enough Hank is nearly tripping over a crouching Sumo. He’s just about to scold him when he glances up. 

Hank kneels quickly. There’s a figure in the clearing beyond the bushes they hide behind. He cautiously draws his bow and squints, attempting to get a better look. 

The first thing he notices is that this is undeniably the source of the crying. And second... That it’s not human; A creature. One that Hank has always thought to be the thing of fairy tales. 

It’s a man... Almost. Except instead of human legs he has those of a deer; Furry, brown, with a few white spots dotting his thighs. His top half is bare and entirely human, save for large, floppy deer ears and small antlers protruding from his mussed hair. He covers his face as he cried, so Hank can’t observe any facial features.

He scans the creature, quickly finding the source of his distress. On his right leg, just above the hoof, there was a deep gash bleeding profusely. The blood oozes slowly as a result of its thick consistency. 

Hank slowly lowers his bow, jaw agape. He’s not entirely sure if he’s awake anymore. He knew these woods were weird but honestly if anyone suggested some strange deer-man hybrid was skulking around he’d laugh in their face. But there he is, clear as day. 

Sumo lets out a low growl and Hank hisses at him to stay. Apparently the creature has remarkable hearing however, as his head whips towards them. Before he can say or do anything, the poor bastard is gasping and desperately attempting to scramble away. His right leg is completely useless, causing him to trip over himself. He had to help somehow.

“Wait! I’m not here to hurt you!” Hank calls out. He makes a show of tossing both his bow and skinning knife to the ground, raising his empty hands above his head. The creature stops struggling, breathing heavily. Hank takes one curious step forward, causing him to flinch. He looks as if he’s ready to bolt any moment. 

“Shh, I promise I won’t hurt you. I just want to help.” Hank croons. He worries the creature might not understand him, but his ears perking up tells him the opposite. He relaxes slightly, and slows his breathing. Hank takes this as permission to continue approaching him. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. He can sense he’s being given a lot of trust, and he wouldn’t dare throw that away. He glances back at Sumo and signals for him to stay as he creeps forward. 

As approaches he keeps his eyes locked with the creature’s. He can make out more of his features now. His face appears to resemble a human’s, with milky skin splattered with freckles. He stares back at Hank with large, chocolate brown eyes. They’re clouded with fear; Uncertainty.

He looks like he jumped right out of a painting. Hank holds eye contact as he kneels next to him. His ears are pinned back, defensive. “I can help you. Would it be okay if I took a look at that leg?” Hank asks softly. It feels as if the slightest noise could send the creature running. 

He swallows hard and nods. Hank sighs in relief seeing that he can understand him well enough. He shifts over closer to the hoof, and assesses the damage. It was hard to parse exactly what caused the injury; The gash was deep, but not enough to expose any bone. It didn’t appear to have any claw or bite marks that he recognized. It was almost as if someone took a knife and sliced vertically. 

Hank frowns. “Do you remember what did this to you?” 

He opens his mouth as if he were to speak, but promptly stops himself. He seems nervous. 

“You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to.” Hank flashes him a soft smile, hoping to ease the creatures nerves. He smiles back weakly, only for a moment. 

Hank swiftly unlatches his medicinal pouch, placing it on the soft grass before him. He rifles around the pouch for a moment before retrieving a small vial and jar, as well as a needle and thread. He removes the cloth sealing the vial and locks eyes with the creature once more. “This is going to be painful, but I promise it’ll help.”

His eyes widen but he nods, biting down on his knuckles. Hank shoots him an apologetic glance before gently pinning down his hoof. He grabs the open vial with his free hand, and starts to pour thick, golden honey onto the wound. He tries to ignore the painful whines spilling out of the creature as he focuses on his work. Once the wound is completely covered, he sneaks a peek at his face. 

His eyes are shut tightly, and his cheeks stained from fresh tears. Hank exhales through his nose and goes about opening the jar, this time being filled with moss. He retrieves a generous clump and waits for a moment, letting the honey kill off the bacteria. The wound was too deep to simply apply a poultice and be done with it. Stitches were inevitable, and Hank wanted to cry thinking about how to do this properly with fucking fur in the way. He sighs and gently presses the moss against the wound, letting it soak up both the excess honey and blood. 

The creature’s legs tremble. Hank feels a pang deep in his chest. He’d never been the nicest man, but he was sensitive to needless suffering like any decent bloke is. It’s why he was so strict with his hunting. Swift deaths, no killing for sport, use every part of the animal. This gash wasn’t meant to just disable, it seemed to it was meant to harm more than anything. Hank knew every simple cut needed to stop a deer in its tracks. 

Whoever, or whatever did this, was as cruel as they were sloppy. It made Hank’s blood boil. Not to mention, whatever this thing was... Seemed perfectly aware. Too human. Not just some animal to be slaughtered and eaten. Hank tries to push the anger from his mind as he tosses the completely soaked moss to the side. He picks up his needle and thread and tries not to shake. 

“Alright, hopefully where you’ve come from... They can take care of this properly. This’ll only hold up for you to get you home, okay?” Hank breathes, focusing on threading the needle. 

The creature grunts softly to serve as an affirmative. When it’s all said and done the stitches aren’t terrible. They’re certainly messier than Hank would like, but he thinks he did a damn good job with all that fur in the way. He gently dabs some of the dried blood with a cloth before putting all his supplies back in the pouch. “How’s that feel?” Hank chances a smile. 

The creature glances down at his hoof, and cautiously stretches it. He grimaces slightly, mostly likely because it’s still tender, but attempts to stand. He still can’t put much weight on it, but he’s seems much more balanced than before. He smiles and chirps happily, and that’s when Hank notices a small, cotton white tail wiggle excitedly. 

He slowly stands up, not wanting to startle him. When they make eye contact again, the creature speaks. 

“Thank you, I won’t forget this.”

His voice is deep and velvety, a sharp contrast to his otherwise innocent and soft appearance. Hank is about to respond when he scampers off, only struggling slightly with his injured ankle. He glances back and smiles one last time before disappearing into the forest. Hank runs his fingers in his hair and sits back down, taking a breather. At this point he’s still somewhat convinced it was a dream. He snaps out of it as soon as he feels a wet nose assault his hand. 

He chuckles and scratches Sumo’s ears. “Can you believe that, Sumo?” He simply barks and tries to lick at Hank’s fingers, attempting to taste any sweet remnants of honey.

“Alright ya big brute, let’s head back.” Hank mutters as pulls himself back up. 

The clearing is luckily not too far off from the cottage. Upon returning, Hank gets to work skinning the hares. He tosses an entire one to Sumo for being such a good boy today. As he works on the other two, he can’t help but let his mind drift to that beautiful deer... Boy? Creature? He’s not sure. But what he does know, is that was easily the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, deer legs be damned. His curly hair, the freckles, his porcelain skin. And who could forget those eyes. Hank never considered himself to be a man of God, but that man was downright angelic. 

Hank sighs. It can’t be real. Soon enough he’ll be waking up at the crack of dawn like always. But, those woods had always been strange, and maybe there’s a reason travelers are scarce in these parts. After all, the gifts of the forest were plentiful. There weren’t many good reasons not to build a settlement here. 

So with that Hank rips off a piece of parchment and grabs his quill pen. He scrawls a crude sketch of the beautiful creature. He figures if he wakes up with the sketch still there, it had to have been real. Afterwards, he and Sumo go about their day like normal, omitting their afternoon trip since Hank had taken so much time to assist the creature. His mind wanders throughout the day. 

He gives the sketch one last glance before finally turning in for the night. 

 

\--- 

 

And lo and behold, when he lumbers over to his workbench the following morning, the sketch sits exactly where he left it. Hank shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. It’s almost impossible to believe; What if this is just some fucked up extended dream? Hallucinations maybe? But something deep in his gut told him it was real.

Reassessing his medical supplies, there’s significantly less honey and moss than the previous day. The needle was crusty with dried blood, having forgotten to toss it out. It had to be true, then. 

Filing that information away for the time being, he readies for his morning hunting trip. It’d be a long day to make up for skipping the afternoon trip, but Hank knows it was for the right reasons. 

The day goes by without any mystical encounters. And so does the next week. At this point he feels it’s safe to assume it was a fluke. Maybe the creature had wandered too far and gotten injured as a result. He’s probably far off with his family; Or at least that’s what Hank hopes. 

 

\---

 

And then during his dawn hunt, a week from the incident, he hears the unmistakable sound of a pan flute, being played a little ways away. The tune isn’t one that Hank had ever heard before, but it was undeniably beautiful. Almost hypnotizing. Curiosity getting the better of him, he whistles for Sumo to follow him. As the music got louder, the route grew more familiar. Hank tries to keep his hopes down, but it barely seemed coincidental. He hadn’t stopped thinking about that gorgeous boy. Hank was utterly enamored.

Soon enough he’s approaching the same clearing as before. And as he’d hoped, the strange man was there once more. This time he was sitting cross-legged in the middle with his eyes closed, focusing intently on the music he was playing. His curly hair was decorated with daffodils and sunflowers, some of which were intricately wrapped around his short antlers. He looked absolutely ethereal in the bright spring sun, far beyond anything Hank had ever laid his mortal eyes on. He doesn’t know how long he had been staring when the creature’s eyes snap open. He removes the pan flute from his lips and beams.

“I was hoping you’d find me!” He calls from across the clearing. Hank flinches; He’d barely spoken a word when they first met, and the fact that he’d wanted to see Hank again... It was a far cry from the scared boy he’d first come across. 

The poor kid cocks his head, causing his large ears to flop in an adorable fashion. He was probably confused by Hank’s wordless stare.

“You... You wanted to see me again?” Hank balks, slowly approaching him. 

The man grins again. “Of course! I didn’t have a chance to thank you properly. I really had to get home.”

Hank is nearly there when Sumo bounds forward; He forgot to tell him to stay. “Sumo, shit! Heel!” He yelps. 

The man simply chuckles and starts scratching Sumo’s ears. The big oaf simply falls over and exposes his belly for some tummy rubs. Damn dog always had terrible instincts.

“I thought I smelled a dog when you were here last time. What’s his name?”

Hank sits down in front of him, mirroring his position. “Sumo. His name is Sumo. And you can call me Hank.” 

“Oh, those are lovely names! My name is Connor!” He smiles softly. Hank hears the excited thumping of that darling little tail. He can’t help but smile back. 

“So... Uh, this is real?” 

Connor laughs. “Of course it is! Why wouldn’t it be?” He cocks his head and smirks.

Hank rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know I’ve just... Never seen anything like you before.” He doesn’t bother hiding the wonder in his voice. Connor blushes, and fuck does it look good on him. 

“Ah well, that’s good I suppose. It’s much safer for us to stay hidden.” 

Hank worries his bottom lip and nods. “Apologies if this is rude but... What are you exactly?”

Connor simply bursts into laughter again. It’s an enchanting sound that Hank sees himself growing used to. “Ah yes, few humans know of my kind exactly. Your people have written about Fauns before, but only my goat-like cousins.” 

Hank nods, trying to process what he’s saying. “Well I reckon I’ve heard that somewhere before. But why is your kind missing from the books like that?”

“Hm well. We’ve just managed to stay hidden I suppose. Although if I’m being honest I don’t know of anymore outside my herd.The elders like to say Pan placed us here himself!”

Hank feels dizzy all of a sudden. “Are you telling me gods exist too?”

Connor stares at him as if he’s grown two heads. “Of course they do! What did you think, you just appeared here one day?” 

He sighs and rubs his temples, mulling over the new information. He glances back up at Connor, who’s still got that sweet smile plastered on his face. “It doesn’t matter, I’m certainly a believer now. How’s the uh, hoof holding up?” 

Connor’s eyes flash with pain, but his smile doesn’t falter. He wiggles the toes of the previously injured hoof as if to ease Hank’s worries. “Luckily my hoof itself was fine, so I could limp home well enough. I was able to heal properly back home. My herd thought you did a fine job with the stitching, though!” He giggles. 

Hank sighs in relief. “I don’t want to press or anything but... Do you mind telling me what happened? I rarely see humans come up here so...” He trails off when he sees Connor’s face twists into a pained expression.  
He clears his throat. “Right. Well... I wanted to tell you, but growing up I was taught if I ever ran into a human, I’d pretend I couldn’t speak. Your kind seems to feel threatened by intelligent life different than you, so it’s safer to pretend...” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t know what happened exactly. I was out gathering herbs for the morning meal like I usually do, but before I knew it I was in an unfamiliar part of the forest. I felt... An unexplainable unease.” 

He shudders. “I didn’t even see who or what did it. Whatever it was tried to push me to the ground. It managed to leave a nasty gash but I was able to limp to the clearing. I thought for sure it would catch up to me, but luckily you found me.”Connor smiles weakly, expression still troubled.

Hank leans over and lightly squeezes his knee. It’s the only comforting gesture he can think of without overstepping some boundary. The story troubles him deeply. The blood trail started so close to his cottage, could whatever harmed Connor he lurking right under his nose? He doesn’t want to scare the poor kid more than he already was, so he locks that observation away for the time being. 

“I’m glad you’re fine but... Why did you come back? It can’t be safe to be so far from your home.” 

Connor places his hand upon Hank’s and squeezes gently. Hank feels his face heat up, but he doesn’t seem to notice his slight discomfort as he continues. “Well... My entire herd, especially my brother was staunchly opposed to me returning. But I just... I had to see you again. To thank you properly. I know it was a risk, but I’ve always heard our pan flutes attract humans, so I played in hopes you would show up.” 

Hank shakes his head. “Connor, you already thanked me. You don’t need to risk your life to see some grouchy old hunter.”

But Hank would be a liar if he claimed he wasn’t happy to see Connor once more, that he was glad he actually wanted to see him. But maybe the years of isolation were starting to get to him. Either way, he knew now he had a duty to protect Connor from whatever was in the shadows. 

Connor pins his ears. “I had to run off so quickly, I couldn’t properly express my gratitude. I know it’s risky but... Maybe it’s insane, but I trust you Hank.” He lightly runs his fingers over Hank’s knuckles. 

“Would you at least allow me to play you a song?”

He tilts his head and pouts, and Hank feels like he’s going mad. This boy is going to be the death of him. “If whatever hurt you is human... Won’t that attract them too?” 

Connor shrugs. “Well, if that happens, I have you here with me. You make me feel safe.” He grins. Hank groans internally at the brutal honesty. Connor was naive, too trusting. He’s relieved that he of all people found him, though. Humans were cruel, and he’d do his best to not take Connor’s trust for granted. It’s the least he could do. 

Hank sighs in defeat and finally pulls his hand back, resting it on his thigh; A comfortable distance from his skinning knife in case of a threat. “Alright, go ahead. But I’m not exactly spry, so if some crazy guy comes and kills us then that’s on you.” Hank smirks. He worries he might’ve overstepped, but Connor simply chuckles and lifts the pan flute to his lips. 

It’s another tune Hank doesn’t recognize; But why would he? These were probably the songs Connor was raised with, a central part of his culture. Enamored with Connor’s precision and pitch perfect melodies, Hank can’t help but think about how privileged he was to be sitting here right now. He’s been dealt a tough hand most of his life, so maybe the gods were finally making even. How many men could say they were charmed by a Faun? That they’d earned one of these magical creatures’ trust? The real deal, sitting right in front of them, completely vulnerable. 

He swallows thickly as he examines the sunlight shining through his sweet curls, trying to memorize how divine he looked when the light practically reflected off his ivory skin.  
Connor locks eyes with him as he plays. Hank feels as if he could get lost in that warm gaze forever. He felt safe, warm. Loved. And then he feels a flame burn bright in his chest, the searing feeling of desire enveloping his entire being. Liquid hot need seeps down his extremities, and before he can think about why this is happening to him, Connor stops playing. 

“From my native language that roughly translates to ‘Hidden Grotto’. I thought that was appropriate.” He chuckles. “Did you like it?” His pleading eyes bore straight into Hank’s soul. 

The white hot feeling has mostly evaporated, but warmth still bubbles in his chest. Hank sputters a bit and rubs his hands over his face. “D-Did you do that?” He asks frantically. 

“Do what?” Connor cocks his head. 

Hank exhales. “Just... Just forget I said anything.”

Connor’s eyes widen. “Oh, did you feel a sudden burst of strong emotion? Legend says that our songs can often exaggerate underlying human feelings. I’ve never had a chance to test it out, as you can imagine.”

Hank squints. “Something like that.”

Connor looks like he’s about to ask for him to elaborate when he takes a quick glance at the sky. “Oh dear, I’ve been here far too long. I need to head back before anyone notices!” He hops up and extends a hand down to help Hank stand. And thank God, because Hank’s legs still feel like jelly. He dusts often his pants and mutters a ‘thanks’.

“Will we meet again, Hank? I don’t want to bother you if you’d prefer not to see me again.” 

Confusing emotions be damned, Hank know his answer. “Of course. Just... Be safe, okay? I’m sure you can hold your own but if this thing turns out to be real nasty...” He doesn’t want to finish the sentence. 

Connor smiles lightly and sets the pan flute down before pulling Hank into a tight embrace. They stand there for a few moments before Connor pulls back. “We’ll be okay. I’d like to see the bastard try to take both of us.” He smirks. 

Hank feels himself relax. He wonders how well Connor could’ve handled himself if he hadn’t been caught off guard. After all, his kind must be pretty strong if the gash Connor had ended up healing so quickly. 

“Well, be safe Connor. Until next time, yeah?”

“Until next time, Hank.” Connor reaches down to give one last farewell pat to Sumo, and trots off into the unknown. Hank doesn’t dwell there for long, he whistles for Sumo and the pair head home to try and rest before the afternoon hunt. 

He lays in his bed, mulling over everything that unfolded. 

He thinks about the song he played, how hypnotic it was. Hank had always thought the Faun was beautiful, since the moment he laid eyes on him. But he thought it was just... Appreciation. He’d never felt anything like this for a man before; that song had brought out some deep desires he never knew he was capable of. But crazily enough, it didn’t scare him. If anything it felt normal. Exciting even. Infatuation was an emotion he’d long locked away, thinking it was no longer needed. 

He knows it’s unlikely Connor reciprocated, but he wraps himself in the feeling, in the joy he feels when he pictures Connor’s smile. He doesn’t know where this will lead him, but he’d take the chance. Maybe it was all the Faun’s mystical charm, but at this point he doesn’t care. 

If Connor can let him in, maybe he can too. 

 

\---

 

He dreams of Connor as he sleeps. He returns in a paltry three days, announced by enthralling tunes drifting merrily through the woods. When Hank whistles for Sumo, he’s already bounding for the trail; It seems he recognizes the music as well. Soon enough they approach the clearing, and the young Faun’s ears flick up immediately. He places the pan flute to his side and waves.  
Sumo darts over to him and nearly knocks him over in his excitement, but Connor simply laughs and rewards him with ear scratches. 

Hank jogs over and plops down in front of Connor, much like their previous meeting. This time the conversation is a lot more casual and relaxed. Connor asks all sorts of questions about where Hank is from and why he’s here now. He sugarcoats things for the time being, not wanting to bring the mood down. In return Connor tells Hank a lot more about his culture, and he hangs onto every word. 

He feels his heart swell with each new fact he learns about his new friend, and before long Connor has to leave. “So uh, how often do you think you’ll be coming by?” 

Connor frowns for a moment, thinking. “I can’t say for sure, I have to look for opportune times to sneak out. But I’ll try for at least once a week.”

Connor stands and helps Hank onto his feet. “Alright well, you know I love seeing you. Just please don’t get in trouble for me, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” 

Connor beams. “I love seeing you too.” 

Hank tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat. And that night, he tosses and turns in bed, unable to keep the Faun out of his mind. It feels like his infatuation for him grows stronger with each passing day, and seeing him only made matters worse. But Hank held the warm feeling close to his heart, relishing it. Good things rarely last forever, and he wants to cherish every good feeling Connor gives him, pining be damned. It’s too late to close himself off from his feelings, and at this point he’ll embrace them. 

\---

 

He hears a strange rustling in the night. Sumo goes ballistic, so Hank has no choice but to peer out the window. 

Nothing.

He sighs and orders Sumo to be quiet, pushing the dog’s whines out of his mind as he lays back down. He just thinks of that beautiful clearing and Connor, and falls into a deep sleep. 

 

\---

 

He and Connor see each other often over the next month. He hears that telltale tune twice a week, and by now Sumo recognizes it just as well as he does. 

Connor is always there in the center of the clearing, cross-legged, with flowers decorating his unruly hair and antlers. They’re always different, too. Sometimes his arrangement is colorful, orchids and poppies carefully woven through his curls. Other times it’s rare flowers for these parts, like carnations and hydrangeas. Hank always wonders how he manages to find them. 

He’s captivated with every part of Connor, hooves and all. He can’t remember a time he was this happy since he moved here. He doesn’t feel alone anymore, Connor makes him feel cherished; Loved, even. Like he actually matters. He savors each moment they’re able to spend together. 

And with every moment spent in one another’s company, they learn more about each other. Like how Hank loves plums and makes his own clothes; Or how Connor practically purrs when his ears are rubbed and that his favorite color is yellow. Small, inconsequential things. 

During one of their meetings around 2 months after they met, a large, woven basket sits next to him. It’s filled to the brim with an entire rainbow of flowers, freshly and delicately picked. Connor picks up the basket and sets it in his lap, flashing a soft smile at Hank. “You always seem to love my hair so...” He blushes in an uncharacteristically shy manner. 

Hank feels his face heat up, embarrassed that Connor had noticed him staring all this time. It quickly fades when he realizes how nervous he is, ears drooping down and looking away. 

Hank’s face cracks into a warm grin. “That sounds wonderful, Connor.”

Connor beams as his ear perk back up, and begins to sift through the basket. “So, with your hair length I think I could fit three different flowers. What are your favorites?”

Hank shrugs, never really considering it before. “Surprise me, you know much more about this stuff than me.” 

Connor giggles and promptly nods. “Well, close your eyes and I’ll get started.” 

“Why?” Hank frowns, suspicious.

“You wanted it to be a surprise, didn’t you?”

Hank rolls his eyes playfully; Connor had always been a little too literal. Still, to humor him, he squeezes his eyes shut. He hears rustling, likely Connor resuming to rummage through the basket. Hank attempts to sneakily open his eyes.

“Hey, no peeking!”

Connor chuckles as he playfully swats at Hank’s shoulders. He sighs and covers his eyes to reduce temptation. 

And then he feels Connor’s slender fingers running through his hair, gently combing out the tangles and knots. He tries not to groan at the pleasing sensation. He feels like he could fall asleep when he feels Connor begin to weave the flowers into his wiry locks. He’s tender in his work, as if Hank could break at any moment. He focuses on the feeling of soft fingers brushing along his scalp, sighing contentedly. Something about the moment felt intimate in its own way. 

Precious, special. Connor had never elaborated on the significance of flowers in his culture, but Hank could feel from his attentiveness it was important. Despite saving Connor’s life, he hardly felt he deserved the Faun’s trust. Soon enough, it’s over though. Connor’s cheery tone quickly snaps him out of his trance. 

“All finished! You look lovely, Hank!” 

Hank finally looks, and he’s immediately met with a warm smile and twinkling eyes. 

“Oh, if only you could see yourself right now.” Connor sighs dreamily. 

Hank can’t help but blush. 

“So, what’d you give me? I wanna know what flowers you think reflect me.” Hank smirks. It was meant to be a joke more than anything, but Connor’s face immediately falls alongside his ears, nervous demeanor back in full swing. 

“Ah well, it’s meant to be a surprise so...” His eyes dart anywhere but Hank’s face. 

“I just meant when you were picking them out. I don’t know shit about flower meanings like you do, I wanna know what you were thinking.” Hank smiles softly, hoping he could help the Faun feel more comfortable. 

“You really want to know?” Connor asks cautiously. 

“Of course. You know I love hearing you talk about this stuff.” Perhaps it was too honest, but it seemed to relax Connor nonetheless. He sighs and nods, managing a shy smile. He reaches up and thumbs at one of the many flowers decorating Hank’s long neglected hair.

“Sunflowers... For adoration and loyalty. After everything you’ve done for me... I’ll always be by your side.”

Hank chokes, his face probably bright red by now. Connor had always been brutally honest and affectionate, but his openness never failed to take Hank aback.

Connor chuckles and and gently touches another flower, just above Hank’s ear. “Yellow tulips, for your friendship and bright smile. It’s always a good day when I get to see you.” The look he gives Hank as he says this is so warm and loving, Hank feels as if he might melt on the spot. 

They lock eyes intently as Connor brushes the final flower. “Daisies, for new beginnings and...” He pauses to swallow thickly, eyes pleading. 

“And... True love.”

It felt like time had come to a standstill around them, as if the earth itself needed to watch this moment. Hank’s jaw is agape, trying to process what he just heard.

Connor attempts to pull his hand away but Hank swiftly grasps his wrist to stop him. He gently moves his hand to cover Connor’s and squeezes, still keeping his gaze locked with his.  
He gasps softly, moving his free hand to cup Hank’s cheek. He stares at him reverently, like he’s the most magnificent thing he’s ever seen.

And maybe to Connor, he is. His eyes flutter closed as he slowly leans in. Hank meets him halfway, capturing his soft lips in a sweet, passionate kiss. Hank removes Connor’s hand from his hair in favor of lacing their fingers together. He trails his other hand down Connor’s side, causing him to shudder.

He grasps his hip tightly to pull him closer and runs his tongue along the seam of Connor’s plush lips, causing him to groan. They reluctantly break apart to catch their breaths, still entwined with one another. Connor is a delectable site, face flushed bright red and teary eyed. 

They’re both breathing heavily as Connor lightly rests his forehead against Hank’s. His antlers poke uncomfortably, but Hank can’t find it in him care. They sit their for a moment, focusing on the sole sound of their breathing. Once they’ve regained some semblance of composure, Connor pulls back slightly. He brushes his thumb tenderly along Hank’s cheekbone as he begins speaking. 

“I... I didn’t think...” He whispers in disbelief. 

Hank gives his hand a soft squeeze, encouraging him to continue. “I just... I never thought you’d feel this way about me.” He stares at Hank in awe. He untangles his hand from Connor’s only to gingerly brush a stray curl from his eyes. He slowly runs his fingers along his jawline, and Connor leans into the touch. 

“Why would you think that?”

Connor sighs. “I’m not exactly an uh... Conventional partner for humans.” He smiles weakly. 

Hank chuckles, wrapping his free hand around his upper back, pulling him close. Connor rests his chin on Hank’s shoulder and relaxes. “I’m not very conventional myself.”

Connor laughs and sits back up. He wraps his arms loosely around Hank’s neck. “Guess we’re a good match.” He smirks, all traces of nervousness gone. 

“I suppose we are.” 

Hank pushes all the worries away; the fear he isn’t good enough for Connor, that he can’t protect him. He lets himself revel in this moment, and focuses solely on the man he’s come to love. Connor pulls him back in, where they exchange chaste kisses and hushed laughter. Just enjoying being with one another. Hank’s hands wander wherever he can reach, all along his bare chest. They sit there, letting time pass them by as they explore each other. The world around them doesn’t exist anymore.

Hank hasn’t loved like this in so long. 

Eventually, they have to break apart and return to reality. It’s long past when Connor was originally supposed to leave. The sun hangs brightly in the sky, signaling the arrival of yet another lovely Spring afternoon. Connor grips his basket tightly, trying to hold back tears. 

“Hey, you know we’ll see each other again soon.” Hank coaxes, reaching out to cradle Connor’s cheek. He sniffs and leans into his palm, relishing the gentle touch. 

“I know I just... I hate leaving you.” He whispers. 

“I know, I hate it too.” 

Connor gently sets the basket down and moves to embrace Hank desperately. “What are we going to do?”

Hank hugs back tightly. “I don’t know but... We’ll figure it out, okay?” He tries not to show how scared he is in this moment. Their situation is so complex, he didn’t even know where to begin.  
But Connor nods, and pecks his cheek one last time as he pulls away. 

“I’ll see you soon.” He whispers before turning towards the woods. He holds his basket to himself protectively as he disappears; Hank can’t help but be glad he didn’t give him that one last glance like usual. He probably wouldn’t have let him leave. He whistles, alerting Sumo it was time to head home. He’d napped throughout the entire visit, but maybe that was for the best. 

When they arrive home Hank smiles to himself. Separation aside, the fluttery feeling in his chest prevails. He catches a glimpse of himself in his mirror, beaming at the memory of Connor’s fingers gliding through his hair. He moves to look at himself properly, and Connor was right. He does look pretty darn lovely. 

He gingerly begins to unravel the flowers, not wanting to crush them in his sleep. He grabs a jar half filled with lukewarm river water, he’d only had time to drink some of it when he headed out at dawn. He gently places the flowers in the jar, forming a brilliant, sunny bouquet. Easily the prettiest thing in Hank’s drab cottage. He sits on the edge of his bed, not exhausted in the slightest from all the strong feelings buzzing throughout his body. He thinks about bringing Connor here one day, maybe when it’s safer. It might be a bit dull, but he knows he would lighten up the place. 

 

\---

 

Hank expects it will be a few days before seeing Connor again, but it’s only the next day when he hears that sweet sound again. The tune feels different somehow; it’s slower, more methodical. Hypnotizing in its own way. The moment he arrives at the clearing, Connor tosses his pan flute to the side and runs towards Hank at full speed, nearly toppling him upon impact. He wraps his arms tightly around his neck and buries his face into his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, I just had to see you again.” His voice is slightly muffled, but the desperation is still clear in his tone. 

Hank holds Connor tightly to his chest and tilts his head to place a few chaste kisses in his hair. He traces his fingers soothingly along Connor’s spine, relieved he isn’t the only clingy one. And that’s how much of the time spent together goes. Passionate kisses and cuddling in the soft grass, watching the clouds drift slowly across the bright blue sky. Connor comes more frequently and stays longer now. He never mentions what his family thinks, so Hank doesn’t worry. He can’t let his mind go there. 

By the end of the week Hank’s back is killing him from constantly laying on the hard ground, but he can’t find it in him to care. Things seem… Perfect, for once. Or as close to perfection as one could feel with the distance between them. As much as he yearned for Connor in his absence, he still feels an overwhelming sense of joy. He lets the electric feeling of love envelop him; He’d almost forgotten what it felt like. 

\---

 

But as is his mantra; Good things don’t last forever. Every night when he’s laying in bed, he’s momentarily pulled from his fantasy. Suspicious noises in the night, growing ever closer to the cottage. Sumo never fails to react accordingly, but each time Hank glances out the window, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. He’s considered taking a look outside with his trusty companion, but the thought always gives him a horrible gut feeling. Even without the creepy noises, Hank rarely left the cottage at night. The woods always seemed far too daunting; Too dangerous for a mortal man to traverse in the darkness. He tries not to worry, and he doesn’t tell Connor, even though he probably should. But he’s just a man; Fallible, selfish.

Then he begins to notice things are off. Corpses of deer and hares begin to pop up more often during his hunts. The predators of the forest are much cleaner, more thorough. Never wasting a bite. When the corpses become far more present than normal, Hank investigates the bodies. The gashes are an eerily familiar site; cuts meant to harm and torture, not for a merciful kill. Whatever this thing was, it was getting antsy. No skilled predator would get this sloppy, it’d simply be too risky. Not to mention a huge waste of perfectly fine food.

He vows to tell Connor the newfound information during their next meeting. It doesn’t feel safe anymore. That night before bed, he thinks about the past two weeks. Their first kiss feels like a lifetime ago somehow. It’d been a long few weeks, but only in the best way. But the nice memories only help Hank so much.

As he tries to sleep, he can’t shake the feeling he’s being watched. Sumo isn’t laying down, he’s standing stiffly, at full attention. He stares at the window intently, and Hank has a strong feeling he shouldn’t go near it, at all costs. An evil presence lurked in the darkness, he could feel it deep in his bones.

He barely rests that night. The next morning things still feel off. He omits the dawn hunt, concerned that Sumo might run too far and get hurt. When the sun climbs higher, he equips himself with his normal hunting gear. He has no idea if Connor would be there today, but he promised to keep him safe. He arrives at the clearing much earlier than their usual meeting time, so it’s predictably empty. He plops down in the center and closes his eyes, focusing on the sounds of the forest surrounding him. He keeps a hand on his skinning knife, prepared to fight back at any moment. He feels that dark presence around him, thrumming deeply in the ground. The energy thickened the air to a nearly suffocating degree. 

All he could do though is wait. He can’t risk leaving Connor here alone with evil lurking just around the corner. He’s unsure of how much time has passed when he hears the indicative crunching of leaves. 

“Hank?” Connor calls out. Hank whips his head around to see his beloved standing nervously at the edge of the clearing, hugging his pan flute tightly to his chest. Hank clambers to his feet and frantically gestures for him to come further into the clearing. Connor cocks his head and frowns, but trots over to Hank nonetheless. 

“Hank, what’s going on?” Connor whispers, concern clouding his eyes. Hank sighs and reaches to grasp Connor’s shoulders. He gives them a light squeeze before speaking. 

“Do you feel that?” He murmurs. 

Connor frowns for a moment before his his eyes widen in shock. “That’s...” 

“Yeah, I thought as much. Been seeing weird shit lately. I don’t know what this thing is, but... It’s never been this close.” 

Connor nods in agreement. “I felt this same energy right before I got attacked.”

Hank grunts. “I saw some wildlife with the same kind of wounds as you... Not too far from here.”

Connor swallows hard. “What should we do?” 

Hank sighs. “I think it’d be safest for you to go home. I can hunt this down and-“

Connor shrugs Hank’s hands off. “No, absolutely not. I’m not leaving you alone with this monster.”

“You saw what it did to you last time. I don’t think I could forgive myself if it hurt you again.” He whispers.

Connor huffs. “Listen, this thing knocked me over without breaking a sweat. I barely got away. That means it’s huge, and you’re definitely going to need backup. Also, if I’m being hunted right now, all I’ll be doing is leading it back to my home, where it could attack my herd. I can’t do that to them...” Connor trails off, gazing at Hank with pleading eyes.

“Okay, you’re right. But what do we do then? We can’t just be out in the open.”

Connor bites his lip, thinking for a moment. “Your home is safe, yes? We can stay there while we figure this out.” 

Hank snorts. “Safe is a bit of a stretch. I found your fucking blood trail a short walk away.” 

Connor shrugs. “Well there must be a reason it hasn’t attacked you yet. Or maybe it thinks your home is empty. Either way, it’s a safer bet than standing out here.” 

He had a point, there wasn’t much they could do unless they hiked all the way to town and somehow avoided human detection. Hank peels one of his hands from his pan flute and clenches it tightly. 

“Alright. Let’s hurry back then.” 

Connor squeezes back as Hank starts to sprint in the direction of his cottage. As they get close the energy starts to disband, and it becomes easier to breathe. Safety for the time being. 

Whatever this was, it seemed to be stalking the areas Connor was the most. How long it would take to catch on, Hank wasn’t sure. But they’ve survived this long being out in the open, so surely they’d have a night of solace at the very least. When they arrive back at the cottage, Sumo is right at the door to greet them. As usual, Connor spoils him with plenty of ear scritches and belly rubs. Hank scans the room, slightly embarrassed about the mess. Connor doesn’t seem to mind, though. 

When he thought about bringing Connor here before, he was absolutely right about him lighting up the room. Despite all the stress, he was still able to smile, and it made Hank’s humble home seem so much less dreary and hopeless. No longer a symbol of his loneliness. After tending to Sumo, Connor starts exploring the modest space, hooves clicking pleasantly against the floorboards. Hank spent most of the day answering Connor’s questions, just like when they first started spending time together. It was nostalgic in a bittersweet way; Everything felt different now. 

The whole time while things were shifting between them for the better, it felt like the world was crumbling down in the background. But with Connor’s soft smiles and warm laughter, it was hard to lose hope. As the sun begins to set Hank fumbles around trying to make supper. He didn’t feel... Right about preparing a deer in front of his Faun partner, so he goes about making himself a hare stew, and a vegetarian version for Connor. As they eat they make quiet conversation. 

“So... You don’t think your family will come looking for you or anything?” Hank asks between bites. He worries he’s being insensitive, but Connor doesn’t seem to mind. He sets his now empty bowl to the side and clasps his hands together. 

“After just one day? I don’t think so, we try our best not to leave our territory unless absolutely necessary. But I’m pretty certain they know I’m seeing you, my brother’s been dropping hints.” He chuckles. 

Hank nods and pushes his own bowl forward. “So you think they’ll assume you’re safe?” 

Connor hums. “At least for the time being, yes. My brother will probably jump to the conclusion you kidnapped me, but they wouldn’t let him leave alone.” He smirks. 

Hank grunts, accepting that answer. But there was still one thing bothering him about the whole situation. “Alright fair... But I was thinking, you’ve talked about how you can handle your own. If your herd is anywhere near as strong as you, wouldn’t they be able to take down whatever it is out there?”

Connor nods, as if he expected this question. “Given we don’t know what this creature is really capable of, I can’t say that for sure. We have many elders and fawns whose lives would be at risk. And...” Connor inhales deeply before continuing. “If I die, which is certainly a possibility... I want you to be the last face I see, so I can at least pass with the comfort that you’re alive and safe in that moment. Maybe that’s selfish but...” Connor trails off, staring down at his hands. 

Hank reaches across the table and grasps his hands. “Oh Connor...” 

His eyes flick back to Hank, red rimmed and tears threatening to fall at any moment. “I think we’ll be okay, though. I’m just scared.” His voice shakes.

Hank runs a thumb over his trembling knuckles. “Me too.”

Hank stands from the table and helps Connor do the same. He keeps a tight grip on Connor’s hand as he leads him to bed. As they slowly seat themselves at the end of the bed, Hank takes a moment to examine Connor’s face. Tear stained cheeks and watery eyes,Hank never wanted to see him this way again. He tentatively leans in to press soft kisses wherever the tears fell,although it only causes Connor to sniffle more.

“Hank...” He rasps

“Can we just... Forget for a moment. Can it just be you and me?”

Connor sniffs and nods frantically. “Okay... Okay.” He whispers. 

Hank wastes no time crashing their lips in a heated kiss, reaching up to hold his head in place. He breaks the kiss only to litter Connor’s neck with all the love bites he yearned to mark him with in the past. Connor groans desperately. “Hank...”

“You like it when I mark you, darling?” He rasps before nipping just above his collarbone.

He gasps and clutches Hank’s hand tightly. “Fuck, yes...”

They spend that night exploring each other’s bodies desperately as if they’re running out of time. And maybe they were. 

Hank’s love for him runs so deep, he aches with each passing moment. The desire that rips through him is white hot, animalistic even. He kisses every inch of Connor’s perfect body, wringing out moan after moan. He can’t be sure of what comes tomorrow. All he can do is lay his soul bare and try to show Connor how much he truly means to him. Make him feel things he’s never felt before. 

When they finally collapse, panting and sweating, Hank doesn’t let himself feel scared. He doesn’t let himself spoil the moment. Instead he pulls Connor into his chest and tries to memorize every freckle and birthmark dotting his soft skin. His antlers dig into his collarbone, but somehow it’s still the most comfortable position he’s ever been in. He kisses his forehead and runs his fingers through his hair, slightly mussing the careful arrangement of daffodils weaved through his soft curls. 

“I love you, Con.” Hank whispers.

He hears Connor’s breath hitch.

“I love you too.”

Hank doesn’t sleep, he can’t. He keeps vigil over that window, ready to jump into action if need be. But he steals the occasional glance of his lover’s peaceful resting form. Occasionally his ears twitch in his sleep, causing Hank to chuckle quietly. He can only feel grateful. 

 

\---

 

As dawn breaks, Connor and Hank watch the sunrise in a peaceful silence. One that likely wouldn’t last, but they would appreciate it nonetheless. 

They have a simple breakfast of plums and pears before Hank hands Connor a sheathed kris. He accepts it and examines its hilt; gold with a lion’s head at the end, somewhat dull from years of neglect. It was a gift from an old friend, but living far from the evils of civilization rendered it useless until now. Connor carefully unsheathes it tests the weight of the blade.

“You know how to use that?” Hank asks gruffly. 

Connor nods. “I’ve never used a blade quite like this, but I was trained to fight with daggers. I’m a quick learner.” He smirks

Hank grunts and begins to equip himself with his usual gear, taking care to pack extra medical supplies

“So, what are you thinking?” He glances at Connor as he pulls on his boots. 

“Well, I think we’ll be much worse off if we’re caught off guard...” He trails off.

Hank swings his quiver over his shoulder. “So you thinking we gotta hunt this thing down?” 

Connor bites his lip and nods.

Hank turns to face Connor properly as he sheathes his bow. “That’s what I was thinking too. We can’t hide forever, the only advantage we have over this fucker is surprising it.” 

Connor nods grimly. “I don’t feel good about this but... It’s our only chance.”

Hank swallows hard. There’s a very strong chance he could die today, and he isn’t sure he’s fully coped with that yet. But Connor made anything feel possible when he was by his side. Maybe it was foolish, but he didn’t feel completely hopeless. Not yet, at least. He sheathes his skinning knife, the final touch. 

He hands a small pack to Connor full of the last of his medical supplies; He hoped they wouldn’t need them. Before properly equipping the bag, he slips his pan flute inside solemnly. Finally, he hooks the sheathed Kris to the bag, assuring it’s easily accessible before turning to Hank and nodding. Hank firmly orders Sumo to stay before he grasps Connor’s hand tightly and leads him out of the cottage. Luckily, the dog seemed to obey. 

It felt final now. Hank leads him towards the clearing, taking a slight detour to move around the perimeter as opposed to entering. As they continue, the air slowly begins to grow thick with that same dark energy from before. Connor suddenly comes to a halt, jerking Hank’s arm back uncomfortably. 

“What’s wrong?” Hank whispers. Connor is staring straight ahead, jaw agape.

“I... I recognize this place.” He murmurs. Hank glances around, not noticing anything particularly of interest about the trees surrounding them. 

“This is where it attacked me, I know it.”

Hank shudders. He couldn’t easily differentiate the foliage from the rest of the forest, but it made sense that Connor might. Or at least, get that feeling from a survival perspective. 

“Guess we must be getting close, then.” Hank breathes. Connor’s eyes flick back to his, clouded with terror. He nods curtly and places his free hand over the sheathed kris.  
Hank’s chest tightens, nerves quickly creeping up on him. Connor squeezes his hand reassuringly, although it doesn’t do much to relax him. As they move on the air gets more oppressive, and their path is lined with more worrying signs. Dead birds litter the forest floor, and the tree bark gets progressively more diseased. They follow a path marked by death, knowing full well that the destruction signals their target is near. Hank hears Connor sniff behind him. 

“Do you smell that?” 

“What, you mean the bodies?” He grimaces. 

“No... I smell burning.” 

Hank stops in his tracks and slowly cranes his neck to look at Connor, whose face has gone completely pale. 

“What do you think it means?”

Connor stares at him helplessly and shakes his head. “I-I have no idea.” His voice trembles.  
Hank loosens his grip on Connor’s hand only to pull him into a firm embrace. He runs his fingers calmingly through his hair.

“No matter what, we’re in this together, okay?”

Connor pulls back and nods, tears threatening to fall. “No turning back now, huh?”

“Afraid not.” 

Connor moves to clutch Hank’s hand once more when his eyes widen. His ears are standing at full attention. “Hank...” He whispers in a warning tone. 

He’s about to question him when he hears it too. Almost too quiet to make out with his weak human ears. A low growl, deep and menacing to the point it sent unpleasant shivers down Hank’s spine. 

“Wh-“ He’s cut off by his world turning upside down. He groans on impact, slightly dazed at the sudden shift in orientation. He attempts to pull himself up when he realizes Connor is completely sprawled out on top of him. The burning smell is oppressive, and Hank sputters at the smoke quickly filling his lungs. He glances up and notices the decaying trees and bushes around them are ablaze, hot flames licking the ground where Hank had previously been standing 

“I-I felt it coming-“ Connor pants before descending into a fit of coughs. Hank laid there frozen, dread locking his limbs in place.

Now the growling was clear as day, ringing obtrusively in Hank’s ears. Connor scrambles to his hooves, unsheathing the kris and shifting into a defensive position. 

“Hank, y-you may want to s-see this.” His voice quivers. 

Hank struggles to stand, his back screaming in protest. He unsheathes his trusty skinny knife and turns to face their enemy, and what he sees is just about the last thing he was expecting.

A beast easily three times the size of himself stood crouched before them. The creature has the head of a lion with a long, flowing mane. Poking up from its back, a goat’s head with smoke steaming from its mouth and nostrils stared at them menacingly. To make matters more horrifying, a snake took the place of its tail, hissing and baring its teeth. A quick glance at the monster’s claws confirmed their suspicions. They were long and jagged, and matched Connor’s gash perfectly. 

Hank held his knife up towards the beast, hand twitching uselessly. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins but he knew that wouldn’t be enough. “Connor... What the fuck is that?” Hank hisses. 

“I... I think it’s a chimera, but I never thought they were actually real.” He whispers back. 

Hank tears his eyes away from the monster to shoot him an incredulous look. “Hey! I only knew about them through cautionary tales from my elders! I thought it was just meant to scare us out of wandering off!” Connor shouts. 

“Alright whatever, do you remember if those tales ended well?” 

“Uhh, the fawns usually ended up torn to shreds or burnt to a crisp.” Connor cringes. 

Hank swallows hard and shifts his focus back to the chimera, which still remains crouching menacingly. 

“Any idea why it hasn’t attacked us yet?”

“Um... I think it’s trying to figure out which of us is the easier target.” 

And as if on cue, it lunges at Hank. 

He might be past his prime, but years of hunting kept his reflexes sharp. He’s able to dodge and roll out of the way just in time, only suffering from a slight scrape along his side. He grunts from the pain but recovers quickly, hopping back to his feet in no time. While the chimera begins to stalk towards Hank, flames swiftly materialize in the goat’s mouth. Just as it’s about to unleash its fiery breath, Connor sprints from behind and manages to land a nasty cut in the beast’s side, just where the ribs are. 

The monster roars angrily and attempts to swipe at Connor, but he’s too fast. He gracefully dodges each attack, and for a moment things seem to be in their favor. But as he’s about to move in to land a blow, the snake readies itself for a nasty strike. Connor doesn’t notice however, and as he continues to dodge, he reads closer to the snake’s fearsome maw. Hank had to act now, and fast. He ignores the pain in his side as he charges towards him.

“Connor, look out!” He screams. 

It was a mistake, however. Connor loses focus and is immediately stricken down by the chimera’s sharp claws. As he lays helpless on the floor, the snake hisses and lunges for him.  
It was like things were in slow motion. Much like Connor had done for him earlier, he throws his body over his as a shield. The snake’s bite was by far the most painful thing he’d ever experienced. Its strong jaws clenched down, crushing his ribs as if they were sticks. The venom burned every inch of his body, and he could barely breathe from the blood quickly filling his lungs.

All he can hear is Connor’s pained, blood curdling screech. His ears felt like they were filled with cotton, he couldn’t decipher the words. But abruptly, the hold on his fragile body ceased. The burn of the venom continued to course through his veins, but he could move now. He weakly cranes his neck back to where the snake would be. 

His vision was spotty, but he could just make out that the body had gone limp, and its head lay on the ground just a few feet away. He could vaguely here the chimera scream in agony. He cries as Connor flips him over. His vision was fading fast, and he could barely hear Connor sobbing his name. He wanted to say something, anything to ease his love’s fears. But his jaw remained locked shut as his vision became fully enveloped in black. 

 

\---

 

It felt like only a moment had passed when Hank starts to hear hushed conversations around him. He can’t move or open his eyes, but the buzzing in his ears slowly ebbs away, and the voices become clearer.

He can easily pick out Connor’s raspy whispers among the crowd. He can’t understand any of the words being spoken, and he quickly realizes it’s an entirely different language. He can pick out a few words that Connor had taught him in the past.

Before he can really process the new information, he feels himself slip away once more. The next time he awakens he feels a lot more rested, more like himself. He still has some difficulty moving, but he’s able to crack his eyes open just a sliver. He hisses when harsh light hits his eyes, and blinks long and hard so he can adjust to the brightness. 

The first thing he notices is the unfamiliar ceiling. It was made up of some kind of plant fiber, similar to straw but much greener. The second is the sorry state of his body; He attempts to move his neck to get a better look of his current location, but it stiffens in protest. When he hears a shocked gasped from the corner of the room, his first instinct is to snap his head in the direction of the noise. But his neck struggles under the weight of his heavy skull, as if it’s filled with lead. He’s on the verge of panicking when a familiar voice douses whatever uncertainty had been building up. 

“Hank!” Connor shouts as he finally comes into view. He’s looking down at Hank with the widest, most loving grin he’s ever seen. 

“Hey.” He rasps, taken aback by the roughness- of his own voice. Connor doesn’t seem to mind though, as he moves to cradle Hank’s cheek in his soft hand. He can just barely lean into the touch. 

“How are you feeling?” He murmurs, gently stroking his cheek with his thumb. 

“Tired and... Heavy. Like I can’t move.”

Connor hums. “But you’re not in pain, right?”

“No, just stiff mostly.”

He nods. “That’s understandable. It will take some time for you to get adjusted to this body.” 

“Yeah I- My what now?” Hank’s eyes widen. 

Connor pulls his hand back and peers at him nervously. “A lot has happened while you’ve been out.”

“How long have I been asleep?” 

“A week.” 

Hank is hit with a wave of dizziness, and if he could cover his face with his hands, he would.

“Just... Give me a rundown, will you?” 

Connor bites his lip. “Are you sure?”

Hank sighs. “You’re being awfully cryptic right now, Connor.” 

“I don’t want to overwhelm you.” Connor frowns. 

“I’m a big boy, just lay it on me.” 

Connor rolls his eyes. “Good to see you’re still just as stubborn. But alright.” He seats himself next to Hank. He clears his throat and locks eyes with Hank intently. “When the snake attacked you, it wouldn’t let go. So I took the opportunity to behead it. That weakened the chimera enough so I could finish it off, but by the time I’d disposed of it... You were already gone.”

He squeezes his eyes shut in an effort to blink back tears. When he opens them again they’re bloodshot and misty. “I couldn’t just give up on you like that. I scooped you up and ran you back to my village, which is where we are now. Our druids couldn’t do anything for you...”

He reaches down to hold Hank’s hand, which sits heavily on his stomach. “But I still wouldn’t give up hope. I prayed and prayed, begging Pan to help us somehow. It was all I could do...” He pauses to wipe his eyes. “But then the next day, when we’d scheduled your ceremony. Lucy, the druid who’s been tending to you. She burst through the door to drag me here to see you...” Connor smiles. 

“You were breathing, and all the cuts were gone. Your ribs had healed. You were asleep but... Alive.”

Hank raises an eyebrow. “But how?”

Connor sighs. “This is a little hard to explain.” He cocks his head, a sly smile tugging the corner of his lips. “Does your head feel a little... Off?” 

Hank narrows his eyes. “Feels heavy as fuck, yeah.”

Connor smirks and reaches to tug something above his head, causing it to jerk painfully. 

“Ow, the fuck was that?!” Hank yelps. 

“Did you seriously not notice?” Connor chuckles. 

Hank’s eyes flick up towards his forehead. Indeed, there was... Something there he’d never had before.

“What the...” Hank whispers. Connor smiles warmly as he reaches behind Hank’s head and gently lifts it up. He groans, struggling to support the weight of his head. He nearly chokes when he looks down to see his body for the first time. His legs were now covered in fluffy white fur, mottled with large tan spots. There’s large, cloven hooves in place of his feet that twitch anytime he tries to wiggle his now missing toes. 

Hank’s vision starts to get spotty, feeling like he’s about to pass out. “This can’t be real.” He whispers. Connor squeezes Hank’s hand soothingly.

“I didn’t believe it either but... Every time I would come to see you, you were still like this.” He stares at Hank so fondly it hurts. 

“But how... How could this happen?” He mutters. 

“We’re not sure, we’ve never heard of anything like this happening before. Our strongest theory is that Pan seemed to take a liking to you. I mean, you did sacrifice yourself for me, after all.” Connor smirks. 

He gently sets Hank’s head back against the pillow. “And you’re telling me this shit on my head is...” He trails off.

“Antlers? Oh yes, and you have the most beautiful rack I’ve ever seen, if I do say so myself!” Connor reaches up to stroke the end of one prong softly. It felt... Nice, oddly enough. Hank bursts out laughing at how innocently Connor complimented his fucking rack of all things, and manages enough strength to squeeze the hand still holding his back. 

“So is this shit heavy for everyone?”

“Not usually, but you probably just have to adjust. Although I admit they’re quite large for the average male, I feel lucky.” Connor giggles. 

Hank just rolls his eyes, and then it hits him. “Wait shit, where’s Sumo? We left him at the house.” 

“I went and retrieved him soon after I dropped you off here. He’s already very well loved here.” He smiles.

Hank sighs in relief and reaches for Connor’s head weakly. “You’re amazing.” 

He leans down to connect their lips in a soft, slow kiss. They break apart only to catch their breaths. Connor cups his cheeks with both of his hands. “We can finally be together, permanently. No more bullshit.” He beams. Hank smiles back and pulls him back down for another kiss. 

 

\---

 

Hank spends another week in bed, slowly building up his strength with the help of Lucy. Connor visits between his trips out, teaching Hank the names and uses of the various herbs and plants he’s tasked with collecting. Eventually, he’s able to very uneasily walk home with Connor. He tries not to laugh at the absurdity of Hank tripping like a fawn. 

Connor’s home is quaint, the perfect size for their small family. Hank spends a lot of time there as he slowly earns the trust of Connor’s family and the many villagers. Most aren’t so welcoming at first, fearing this is some complex scheme the humans concocted. He definitely feels like a fish out of water at first, but with a lot of time he’s accepted as one of their own. He’s tasked with gathering like Connor, so the two of them perform their duties daily together. 

Hank can’t believe he was able to survive being apart from Connor for extended periods of time. He can’t get enough of him. In the end, this strange situation was just... Normal for him. He woke up every morning next to his better half, forgetting his dreary human life existed. Well, he still thinks about his son, how fucking amazed he would’ve been by all this. How much he would’ve loved Connor. But he likes to believe Cole is smiling down on him, pleased to see his father truly happy after all these years; Hooves and all. 

So now, he spends his days weaving flowers into his love’s hair like an expert, and gazing at the vast expanse of stars before bed every night. No cruel humans or monsters to worry about. It may be unconventional, sure. But it was paradise to them.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BlGHANK)!


End file.
